


led helpless to the pit

by kanzakiss



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), character death not detailed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanzakiss/pseuds/kanzakiss
Summary: Perhaps they could enjoy this moment of solitude in the midst of so much chaos and frantic fighting.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	led helpless to the pit

_ They were happy _ .

It’s a thought that crosses his mind as he smiles to the boy standing in front of him. A beaming smile returns to him that outshines even the sun hanging above them and Linhardt can’t help but find himself fond of the warmth. It had been a smile he knew for years. Sixteen years ago was the first time he had received that strong kindness and from that day forward he consistently longed for that light to continue gracing him with its rays.

And so it did. The two seemed to lead lives in which their fates would always be woven together. While he occasionally made the annoyed quip about how loud Caspar was at times, the truth was that he found himself unable to live without it. He never held such attachment to any person. Now the times without the sun weren’t cherished. If there were a way to ensure that this mortal sun’s rays would never stop wrapping him in its warmth then he would be sure to find it. Linhardt didn’t care how much time it would take. This much was certain- they would remain together. 

Caspar grabbed hold of Linhardt’s hand firmly and pulled him forward towards the exit of the woods outside of Garreg Mach Monastery. In a time of war, Linhardt found it strange that Caspar remained so cheerful. But he supposed this was his greatest strength. No matter how heavy the clouds overhead may be, Caspar’s light would guide the way forward. Even if they were to face the most evil of beasts he would beat back that darkness and emerge victorious with the light radiating from him.

“I  _ have _ to show you this place, Linhardt! It’s awesome!”

The fondness on Linhardt’s face is apparent. There was once a time when Caspar’s overenthusiasm would put the mage off and he certainly wouldn’t follow Caspar on his own accord all around the monastery. But in the five years they had been separated by the flames of this war, Linhardt only longed to be with Caspar. And so he allowed himself to be pulled along by his dear childhood companion.

The shorter man pulled Linhardt out of the forest and they stood upon a high cliff looking over the valley beneath them. Flowers littered the fields below in all sorts of vibrant colors. The petals rustled gently in the wind beneath a pink and blue sky as the sun was beginning to set. Looking to Caspar, Linhardt could see such a childlike amazement in his eyes. They were sparkling. He seemed so happy to be allowed to cherish this moment alongside Linhardt. It made Linhardt wish to curl up and sleep here by Caspar’s side. Perhaps they could enjoy this moment of solitude in the midst of so much chaos and frantic fighting.

“I wish we had done such things like this when we were at the academy.”

“Yeah… Me too.” Caspar answers with a tinge of regret in his voice.

They watched the sun set in such tranquility behind the mountains of Faerghus in the distance. Linhardt smiled as he looked to Caspar once again and spoke his name so gently. Caspar’s heard turned to him.

“When this war is over let us never return to our lands. Let’s simply leave. We’ll never fight another war.”

Caspar’s smile widens. “Right! We’ll get through this war together and live our lives out. Just you and me, Linhardt! So don’t go dying on me, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He closes his eyes for only a moment. It’s a heartbeat, really. Just such a minute moment in time that the darkness behind his eyelids fills his vision and he cannot see that glorious sun warming everything beneath it. But in that next moment as his eyes open once more, his heart sinks. His skin is cold and the breeze if gone. Those flowers have been trampled and died beneath the boots of soldiers. The grass is scorched in the flames of war and there are remnants of battles all around him.

The sun is gone. He can no longer feel its warmth.

The rain pours down. It washes over him and makes him feel as cold as death itself. Linhardt’s smiles is faded and gone- it hadn’t been seen by anyone in days. Those eyes that one lit up upon seeing his long-time companion were dull and empty. They’re devoid of all emotion and stare blankly ahead.

“‘So don’t go dying on me’... Perhaps I should have said the same to you, Caspar.” He speaks.

Yet when his head turns to the side, he does not see the smiling sun that always walked in step with him. His gaze it turned downwards to the raise dirt and rocks covering it. A headstone marks the grave of the fallen. A secret resting place that could bathe in the rising sun each and every morning. His heart  _ aches _ . It feels as though it is collapses upon itself as he can’t even breathe when looking at the name engraved into the tablet.

_Caspar von Bergliez. Blue Moon 1163 - Guardian Moon 1185._ _  
__The Sun of Fodlan. Linhardt von Hevring’s Guiding Light._

Right… Of course. The evening Caspar had shown him this valley was a month ago. Since then such atrocities had occurred. Memories of Caspar once defaulted to being dragged around Fort Merceus as a child to each and every room to go looking for whatever Caspar deemed to be treasures. Those memories included lazy days fishing while Caspar cheers him on from the side. They were days spent napping in Caspar’s room when Edelgard was searching to scold him for skipping class.

But the first memory that came to him now?

The hands that trembled over open wounds and dark bruises. Those hands that had been drained of every last drop of magic that could be squeezed from him. It was the crest that glowed so brightly that it was painful. Even Saint Cethleann’s blessing couldn’t provide him enough aid. Beneath his hands was the limp body of the only person he ever cared for- the only person he ever loved. His heart was caught in a vice grip as he could see the sun struggling to hold onto the last threads of life. Tears dropped onto the broken skin and stung the wounds with salt.

It’s memory of Caspar holding his hand, being too afraid to speak and Linhardt couldn’t understand why. What was so difficult for Caspar to utter? And soon he found that those words that caught in his throat were ‘I love you’. Such a simple phrase but perhaps Caspar knew that to say that to him now would only break him. It would create such painful longing in Linhardt… And by the Goddess, did it do exactly that.

That was the memory that came to him first.  _ Every. Single. Time _ .

He couldn’t shake the image. Even as his legs carry him back to the monastery he never stops picturing the blood seeping from every inch of Caspar’s body. He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough. All those years of practicing magic wasn’t  _ good enough _ . If it couldn’t save Caspar than what was the point of learning it at all? The one person he ever wanted to protect is dead because he didn’t have the strength to heal him. In fact, the person he loved the most died  _ because of him _ . The fool died protecting him when Linhardt found himself cornered by brigands.

He would  _ never _ forgive himself.

Now those same trembling hands hover over the handle to a room he had come to know far better than his own. The door creaks as it opens and he steps inside, locking the door behind him before leaning back against it.

The room was in the exact same condition as Caspar had left it. Books were fallen on the floor and unused school supplies littered the unused desk. It seemed as though he only used it for storage. A pile of blankets and pillows were stacked high on the counter space beneath the window for Linhardt’s visits. Specially made dark curtains were hung up on the window and pulled open to allow light in. They had been a birthday gift to Linhardt who appreciated darkness when taking a midday nap. But he had them moved to Caspar’s room as he took most naps there anyways.

Linhardt walks over to the curtains and roughly draws them closed. He doesn’t want to see that sun. He  _ hates _ it. That isn’t the sun he came to know and love. It wasn’t  _ his _ sun. The mage sits on the bed and moves further on it until his back is against the fall. He grabs the pillow on the bed and sets it on his knees before pulling them up to his chest and holding the pillow close. It still smelled of Caspar.

It was one of the only comforts Linhardt could still find. He recalls telling the professor that he believed he lacked all manner of empathy. Linhardt told her that even if he were to lose someone close to him, he wouldn’t think twice about their death. Back then he believed that he could have moved on with his life without a moment to mourn and he would simply carry on with his own life. Just because their life has ended didn’t mean his had to as well.

But now he’s realizing why he said such an untruthful thing. Never in his life had he encountered another human that he could find himself so attached to. He only had one friend as a child and among his brothers, sisters, and parents, he didn’t have a single person he felt any sort of bond to. His father was childish and also fighting with Duke Bergliez on who was the strongest while their innocent children played together happily.

Yet the moment he saw that sword pierce through Caspar’s gut, he knew. He knew how horrible wrong he had been. A week had passed since his death and linhardt had still failed to speak a single word to anyone else around him. The only food he ate was eaten in order to remain alive and mourn the monumental loss even longer. Any sleep he got was interrupted by chilling nightmares he just couldn’t take anymore. Only one place seemed to offer him enough comfort to allow him to sleep undisturbed. It rid him of the loneliness.

Perhaps when the sun went down there was a chill to the air of the night. But Linhardt remedied this by spending his nights with Caspar. Curling up next to the overwhelming warmth rid the need of even a single sheet to keep him from freezing in the night. He loved the nights he spent with Caspar. It allowed him to combine the two things he loved the most; Caspar and Sleep. 

However, now he sleeps in here only to get through the night. These horrible, terrifying nights that remind of how awfully alone he is. The light of the sun in the sky is resting for a time while the light that guided his way was expired and gone.

He moves to lay on his side with the pillow hugged to his chest. Another pillow is placed between his head and the wall so he can rest his forehead against it. The pillow lacks the radiating heat and firmness of Caspar but if he can emulate even a single feeling of when Caspar was still living, Linhardt would be able to find and modicum more of feigned comfort for the time being. Once it had been Caspar’s chest he would rest his head against and sleep so soundly… Better than any other place in the world. The sleep he got now couldn’t even come close to a fraction of that amazing feeling.

And still, as he drifted to sleep, he could feel the familiar sensation of Caspar’s hand gripping his wrist so tightly. The boy had tugged in every direction to see fields of flowers, spectacular sunsets, shimmering lakes, and towering mountains. But he couldn’t see those things anymore. All this ghost of Caspar dragged him to was darkness. It led him helpless to a pit to be devoured.

So Linhardt believes it is what he truly deserves.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
